


Books, Bruises, and Fate

by juliamiddletwin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Books, Bruises, F/M, Prompt Fic, Romance, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 05:46:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1458025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliamiddletwin/pseuds/juliamiddletwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julia has her own book store, and a nice quiet life. But one day, she stumbles into something a bit more exciting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books, Bruises, and Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first story on here, and I hope this is good enough for me to write more. I found a tumblr text post about this idea and used it as a prompt, by the way. Hope you enjoy :)

“maybe the little bruises and cuts that show up on your body seemingly out of nowhere are actually little injuries that happened to your soulmate and you get the same marks on your skin as them”  
  
I looked down at my shin the other day and saw a little discoloration forming in a neat little circle. I didn’t think much of it, maybe wondered if I had bumped a table or something without realizing.  
  
The rest of the day went by plainly as usual; I closed up the book shop and walked from fifth to seventh avenue. My apartment was only on the third floor, so I took the steps. I was carrying five books to add to my collection that I had brought home from my shop. I called it “Livres Perdus” or lost books. Reading had always been my passion, so it was natural for me to move to the city and start a shop of my own, where people could drop off old books and pick up new ones. I usually brought home a few for myself that were dropped off by the people that had intrigued me the most.   
  
I believe that the books someone reads can really tell a lot about their person. If its well worn, it meant a lot to them. A darling little old lady with a perm and some huge glasses dropped off “The Haunting of Hill House” by Shirley Jackson. (That was not one of the books I brought home). When people say don’t judge a book by its cover, they’re pretty right. Judge it by the pages it consists of, and try to reread the pages most noticeably dogeared every once in a while.   
  
Anyways, by the time I reached the top of the steps I was panting a bit, and didn’t notice that someone was walking, well more like jogging, my way. They didn’t notice either, and we subsequently collided. my books went flying as did their brushes and pens. I looked up to see a dashing man, hopefully around my age, looking very frazzled. I noticed a bruise on his leg, quite similar to mine.  
  
“I’m so sorry!” we both said simultaneously. I laughed, and started to gather my books. He got his brushes and jumped up quickly, leaving time to give me a boost up. “Julia,” I said with a smile, going for a handshake. He took it and grinned, saying, “Stiles,” in return.  
  
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your leg? I have a bruise just like it and no idea where it came from,” I gestured to my shin. He shrugged, saying, “Me too! Maybe it was the stairs.” 

Mrs. Parkins stuck her head out her door and shushed us, with “The baby is finally sleeping, if you two wake her up I will stab you with a rusty fork!"

 "Well, I have to go. Maybe see ya around these halls soon?” I whispered.

“Hopefully!” he said, and smiled.  
  
We kept bumping into each other, both always having similar bruises. I invited him to my shop, recommended some Virginia Woolf to him, and then walked around the city. He showed me his cafe, and some of his paintings.   
  
We started to see each other even more often; maybe it was dating? But it never felt forced or awkward or uncomfortable. He took me to meet his family in the summer for the Fourth of July and I took him with me for my birthday party down the shore with my family.   
  
Then one day, when biking to our newest favorite spot, I got hit. The bike was crunched in half and so was my leg.  
  
He texted me that he was on his way to see me. 45 minutes passed and nothing.  
  
Then, I heard ambulances getting closer from outside my hospital window. I asked the nurse if whoever it was was ok but she wouldn’t answer. I called him again and again but got nothing. My worry increased. I didn’t sleep through the night.  
  
The next morning a person was in the bed next to me. Their arm, leg, and neck were in casts.  
I said a quiet hello, and Stiles said hello back.  
  
“How about neither of us gets hurt after this, ever again,” I said. He tried to nod. I put on jeopardy, and then fed him some jello and read to him The Search For Delicious.


End file.
